2014.01.01

Almost sixteen years ago to the day I booked our first trip to Turkey. Dave and I were living in Shanghai at the time and Chinese New Year was just around the corner: a nice long slice of vacation time to do with as we pleased. After a so-awful-it's-funny Christmas trip to Guizhou we were determined to travel as far from China as we could. Our award miles would take us as far as Europe, but Europe was expensive. Somehow (advice of friends? an article in a travel pub? for the life of me I can't recall) we decided on Turkey.

We arrived in Istanbul after midnight and glided into Sultanahmet, the old city, along the ribbon of road that runs along the Bosphorus. I remember gawping up at the minarets of the Blue Mosque as our taxi slide along silent streets to our guesthouse, falling into a deep sleep beneath thick duvets on a charmingly high bed, and being jolted awake before dawn by the call the prayer bellowing from a loudspeaker affixed beneath our window. I sat up ramrod straight, delirious with jet lag and, for the minute it took me to figure out what that noise was, scared silly. I think I fell in love with Istanbul, with its ability to surprise and astonish me, right then. We lingered in the city for 10 bitingly cold days, extending our stay when I came down with a horrible cold. For 48 hours I lay in our room, hunkered feverishly but happily beneath the duvet, watching snow fall as I ate lentil soup and rice pudding that Dave brought from nearby shops.

I got better and we hit the road. We flew to Izmir and picked up a car, visited a deserted Ephesus and drove south. It was way, way off-season. In Bodrum a storm knocked out power. Our room's ceiling began to leak, making it impossible to use our fireplace to keep warm. We hastily repacked the car and drove through the rain to Aphrodisias, where the only pension open had no heat or hot water and was run by two strangely hostile brothers who served canned tomato soup for dinner. Our compensation was waking after a night of thunder and lightning to a spectacular and empty (except for us) archeological site set against a backdrop of mountains whose peaks had overnite been freshly frosted with what looked like swirls of buttercream.

Further east at a lakeside resort, restaurants were closed; our hotel's owner took pity on us and defrosted two schnitzel. In Konya, which Istanbul people had warned us would be "very conservative", residents approached us on the street to shake hands and wish us a good trip. Antalya was our Turkish food epiphany. We stayed in an old house in Kaleici owned by a slightly eccentric woman named Perla who kept box tortoises in her large leafy courtyard. Perla and her partner Ali loved to eat, and drink. Every night was an orgy of meze and white wine followed by a perfect grilled fish. Further along the coast, in a seaside village walking distance to the Eternal Flame, we stayed in a bright white room with gauzy turquoise curtains and ate our breakfasts in an orange grove warmed by the sun -- in February.

We returned to Istanbul in love and obsessed with Turkey, Turks, Turkish food, Turkish towns, Turkish ruins and the wide open Turkish road, all of it. On the flight back to Shanghai I turned to Dave and told him that as soon as I could find a teacher I would study Turkish. I added, "I don't know how and I don't know when, but some day Turkey will be a big part of our lives."

***

Nine months later we moved back to the Bay Area, and I found a Turkish tutor, then joined first-year Turkish classes at UC Berkeley mid-year. My teacher was a Turkish cookbook author: Kismet! Only I and one other student enrolled in her second-year class, so she split us up for private tutorials. I gained halfway decent proficiency via a steady diet of food magazines and newspaper columns and stories that touched on Turkish culinary culture. Meanwhile Dave and I continued to vacation in Turkey once a year, always following a stop in Istanbul with a long road trip out east. (My biggest regret: no notes from any of those trips.)

Midway through my sixth semester of Turkish we moved to Bangkok, and set our Turkey obsession aside to immerse ourselves in southeast Asia, a place we'd long wanted to explore. We moved to Saigon, then Kuala Lumpur. We started this blog. I began freelancing and, after leaving his corporate job at the end of 2008, so did Dave.

In 2010, nine years after our last trip to Turkey, we returned so that Dave could attend a photography workshop. Being back was like slipping on a well-worn glove; Istanbul still fit. Before the workshop began we flew out east to Gaziantep and picked up a car. We drove and drove, first to Mardin -- where I stumbled across a travel story -- and then to Midyat, Van, Kars and Erzurum. Along the way we ate. And ate. Back in Istanbul we extended our stay beyond Dave's workshop, first by a few days, then by a week, then by another week. If we hadn't had a home and pets and responsibilities waiting back in Malaysia for us, it's entirely possible that we'd be one of those ex-pats you meet in Istanbul who came to the city for a visit, and then a second visit ... and never left.

***

We returned to Turkey six months later, again in the middle of winter, way way off-season. I love Istanbul most in the winter under gray skies and drizzle; I especially love it under a blanket of snow. After eating fresh anchovies at a Black Sea restaurant in Beyoglu we decided to go to the Black Sea to eat them in situ. We met a fishmonger in Sinop and struck up a friendship. We visited wonderful markets and ate delicious dishes that didn't fit most Western pre-conceptions of "Turkish food". We met home cooks who allowed us into their kitchens and master bakers who invited us behind their marble slabs.

And we returned home to Malaysia with an idea: a book. But could we? Could I write a book about Turkish food? More important: could I sell a book about what essentially began as a crazy obsession?

***

After nine or ten research trips, two years of on-and-off book proposal writing (with the help of a great editor/coach) and photograph collecting, an at times demoralizing month pitching agents followed by six months of tinkering with the proposal under the guidance of the one who took our project to heart, and four weeks of nail-biting as the proposal went out to and was reviewed by publishers, we had our answer. Last October, as we were finishing up our latest eastern Turkey roadtrip with a few days in -- of all places -- Sinop, we learned that yes, we could sell a book born of our obsession with a country and a people and a cuisine that we came to know by chance, a place that -- Who knows? -- we might never have visited if we hadn't been so eager, that winter 16 years ago, to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and China (Shanghai, thank you.)

We have no title yet for our book, but we can tell you that it will be filled with mouthwatering recipes, plenty of gorgeous photographs, and stories -- about markets and farmers and cheese producers and other food artisans, and ingredients and home cooks in their kitchens and bakers -- from Istanbul and Turkey's eastern half. It will not be EatingAsia in book form, but you'll recognize my voice and Dave's eyes in the text and images on its pages.

I'm honored and still rather shocked to be working with a woman who has edited Jacques Pepin. Rux Martin Books / Houghton Mifflin Harcourt will publish [Title ToBeDecided] in 2016.

***

Before I jumped wholeheartedly into freelancing I took a food writing class taught by a then-editor at Bon Appetit. One of her sagest pieces of advice: "Give into your obsessions. They can become great stories." And, apparently, books.

Over the two-plus years that I worked on our book proposal I had so many doubts, and so many fears. (And as I contemplate turning in a completed manuscript in 18 months, I have new doubts and fears!) It often seemed silly, this gut desire to write a book on Turkish food. But I'm so glad I pushed on. You never know where an obsession will lead.

For 2014, I wish everyone reading this the time and opportunity to really give in to an obsession. Am I telling you to quit your job, sell your belongings and travel the world? To chuck it all and become a writer? To pick up a camera and become a photographer? No. But if there is something -- an activity, a language, a dance, a species of orchid, a cuisine.... whatever -- that intrigues you, give in to your curiosity and pursue it, even if for only an hour a week. Life is short. Do that for yourself.

Of course I agreed. Rado interviews make me really nervous, but Rod is a great interviewer and as promised, edits to make his guests sound more intelligent than they are (recording took place at around midnight my time, so I was half asleep). My two segments aired in early June.

Here they are, one on the Black Sea in particular and the second on the Aegean and regional differences in Turkish cuisine -- just click the links below. Thanks Rod and KPAM!

2013.05.28

I cannot overstate how much we love road-tripping in Turkey. As far as we're concerned, if you've got the time and can swing it financially, driving yourself is the only way to travel in what could easily be one of the world's most road-trippable countries.

"Why would I want to self-drive in Turkey?" you ask. Well, for us it's mostly about food. We love Turkey's open roads, the people and places they've led us to and the food that they've set before us.

Yes, Turkey boasts a wide-ranging system of mostly comfortable, fairly inexpensive buses. But they don't go or stop everywhere. Too often, while traveling on a bus I've whizzed past a sight or a restaurant or a street stall or whatnot and wished I could jump off and investigate. In a car I can -- and we do, in Turkey, at our own pace and on our own schedule.

A full moon over the Black Sea. For this photo Dave ran along the highway to capture images of the boat in the light of the moon, while I drove behind to pick him up and drop him off when the boat got ahead of him. Not possible if you're on a bus!

One of my earliest food memories of Turkey, from our first road trip there in January 1998, is of a simple cafe on a lake somewhere between Kusadasi and Bodrum. Dave and I drove by, exchanged a "Should we?" look, then turned around, drove back and ate a delicious fish lunch at a table next to the wood stove. I couldn't tell you the name of the lake, let alone the name of the cafe, but we never would have eaten that lunch delicious enough to still be burned into my memory 15 years later if we'd been traveling by bus.

UPDATE: And just this last April (2014) we traced a circle in Turkey's undervisited southeast, a route we like to call 1,000 Miles of Delicious. (In Part 1 and Part 2)

It's this sort of food-centric travel that draws us back to Turkey again and again, and it simply wouldn't be doable -- or doable to the extent to which we do it -- by bus.

"I am planning to go to Turkey. How can I travel and eat there as you do?" is something I'm occasionally asked in emails. My answer: Have a sense of adventure. And rent a car.

This is not only a How-To post, but a Please-Do post as well. If you're thinking of traveling to Turkey, Please Do consider spending at least part of your time there behind the wheel.

In the last three years we've undertaken eight extended Turkey road trips. Between these journeys, and the driving trips we did from 1998 and 2001, we figure we've clocked some 15,000 or so kilometers (and plenty of meals). If there is one thing we're positioned to offer advice on it's how to best propel yourself by motor vehicle along the country's highways and byways.

I'm always surprised to read strong admonishments against driving in Turkey -- often from people who wouldn't think twice about getting behind the wheel in New York, Los Angeles or Boston. So I'll start by tackling the most Common Myths About Driving in Turkey.

Myth 1: Turks are terrible drivers. You'll get killed by a crazy Turkish driver as soon as you pull out of the rental car agency parking lot.

If you've driven in China, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Bali, Malaysia and especially Penang (in a nation of just generally awful drivers, Penang-ites are said by Malaysians to be the worst) OR Boston or Los Angeles or New York OR Italy or ..... you get my point. In short, if you've driven around and are living to read this post, then you've held your own against much worse drivers than Turks.

TRUTH: Turks are impatient drivers. Expect a honk from the guy behind you as soon as -- sometimes even before -- the light turns green. Don't be rattled, just ignore it and drive on.

TRUTH: Some Turks are risky drivers. Pass on an uphill curve? I've seen it done, and by truck drivers. If someone passes on your left on a two-lane curvy road? Apply the brakes, fall back, and let the risk-taker travel on.

That said, Turks are not bad drivers per se. In my experience Turkish people generally know how to drive. They usually use turn signals. They don't tailgate like Malaysians and many Americans do. They don't often cut across three lanes of traffic to make a turn and except for once way, way out east I've never seen a Turkish driver back up on a freeway because he missed an exit, or back down an exit ramp because he took one he hadn't meant to.

In 1998 we drove, over three weeks, south along the Aegean, east to Aphrodisias, Egirdir and Konya and then south to the Mediterranean. Neither of us spoke a word of Turkish, nor did we have a phrasebook. We did take along a Turkey Road Atlas from Lonely Planet. We were not particularly sophisticated travelers at the time. We lived in China (and drove there) but we spoke Chinese and by that point China was as familiar to us as the USA was.

In other words, we did not undertake our first Turkish road trip with any special prior knowledge or preparation. Our trip to Turkey was done on a whim and we knew pretty much zero about the place. Simply put, we were clueless when we got behind the wheel.

We did fine.

Turkish is a romanized language. Turkish roads are well-marked and turn-offs are signed. Get yourself a road map (only the larger international rental agencies give them out as a matter of course). If all else fails Turks are friendly and approachable and will usually go out of their way to help you. If you find yourself lost or unsure of a turn pull over at a shop or a gas station, state your destination as a question, point left and right and you'll get sent off in the right direction.

Yes, renting a car in Turkey costs more than taking the bus. But it is not always as outrageously expensive as you might think. Take into account the money you might spend on taxis getting to out-of-the-way sights (Sumela monastery from Trabzon, for instance, or the medievel Armenian city of Ani from Kars), and the cost per person if you are a number of people traveling together.

You won't necessariy save money renting a car in Turkey (though you could, with a number of people sharing a vehicle). But it won't necessarily put you in the poor house either.

While on the Aegean we drove approximately 400-425 kilometers and spent a total of about 300-325 US dollars over 7 days on our rental (including insurance purchased from the renter and gas). We drove a diesel vehicle (always preferred, especially if you plan to cover a lot of kilometers) rented through Argus Car Hire that would have comfortably held 4 passengers. (Major international rental agencies charge much higher rates.)

So much for the myths. Now, 10 Tips for Self-Driving in Turkey.

An Anatolian middle of nowhere, February 2012

Tip 1: Go off season

This is advice to embrace no matter how you plan to get around in Turkey, but especially if you plan to drive. Crowded roads make for frazzled nerves. The Aegean is probably one of Turkey's most-visited, and most-driven, regions. In mid-April it was just right for driving (and staying) -- often empty roads during the week and minimal traffic on the weekends -- and will probably remain so until the end of May. You wouldn't catch me dead driving Turkey's west coast in the summer, but I would be happy to return, after September 1.

Unless you're way way way off the beaten track, major roads are passable even in the depths of winter, as we found when we road-tripped in 2012 during one of Turkey's coldest, and snowiest, winters on record.. On that trip we cut a path south to north straight through central-ish Anatolia. For most of our trip everything was blanketed in a beautiful white carapace (extra thrilling for us residents of tropical Penang), but driving never felt scary because major highways and larger roads were kept clear during and after snowfalls.

And, because we'd built extra time into our trip (see Tip 4), even if we had been unexpectedly waylaid for a night or two we could have made do.

Tip 2: Avoid the major cities

This is probably self-evident. Why would you drive in Istanbul, or Ankara? But if you're at all nervous about getting behind the wheel in Turkey, attempting to navigate behind the wheel in major cities is the worst mistake you can make. Just. Don't. Do it. We usually fly in and pick up our car at the airport. A pickup at city rental offices sometimes means slightly cheaper rates. It can also mean time wasted in snarled traffic and a world of pain endured while attempting to navigate an unfamiliar urban landscape.

Roadside picnic outside Tokat

Tip 3: Head east

The further east you go in Turkey, the fewer cars on the road. One of the greateast pleasures of driving in Turkey is its wide-open and varied landscapes. A five-hour drive can take you, as it did us a year ago this past winter, from snow to shirtsleeve weather. Cappadocia is an obvious choice for those looking to venture beyond the Aegean and Mediterranean, but consider too the southeast (Gaziantep-Urfa-Mardin-Midyat), the Black Sea coast and the northeast, say Erzurum-Kars-Van.

Leave time for unplanned stops like this, at a Black Sea market

Tip 4: Give yourself enough time

Be realistic when you plan your itinerary. For us, five hours in the car on any given day is tiring and numbing; we try to limit long days on a two- or three-week trip to 2, or 3 maximum. Three or four hours broken by a stop for tea or a picnic is ideal.

Keep in mind that road construction can, and will, happen, and will seriously slow you up (a 3-hour drive from Unye to Sinop, on the Black Sea coast, became 5.5 hours last autumn, thanks to construction in Samsun).

Most of all, remember one of the reasons you rented the car in the first place: to allow for serendipity. Sometimes serendipity requires time.

Don't plan to change lodgings and locations every day, and leave some padding in your schedule for towns that grow on you and invite lingering, for personal encounters that could become friendships if you could stay for dinner the next day, for a picnic or for unbidden discoveries -- sites, food, etc. -- that pop up en route from one place to the next.

Tip 5: Stay off the road at night

Unless you're driving from one spot to another in the same town, avoid night driving. It's particularly stressful to arrive to a new town or city and try to find your way around in the dark. Days in Turkey are incredibly short in the winter (not light till after 8, dark by 4), something to keep in mind if you're travelling way off-season and have some long driving days on your itinerary.

Every small town and most villages have a tea house. Many gas stations have attached restaurants where it is perfectly acceptable to decline food and order a glass of tea instead. We've never not been heartily welcomed anywhere on the road that we've stopped for tea; we've often been fed too, and had our money waved away. Tea breaks are a fine way to parse your journey, and you may meet some interesting folks too.

Tip 7: Looking for lodging? Head for the Sehir Merkezi

We almost never book accomodation ahead when we road-trip in Turkey, mostly because we don't want to be boxed into arrival dates. And with very few exceptions (Mardin on weekends in the summer) we've found that you don't have to.

So how do you find a hotel?

Well, you could consult your trusty guidebook. Which could be out of date. Many smaller Turkish towns and cities have new hotels coming up all the time and especially if you prefer to stay at the less expensive (but not hostel) end of the hotel scale, as we do, newer is generally better. So, before you arrive to an unfamiliar town google Hotels Town X. Often a booking site comes up, it may be in Turkish or it may not be. Have a look at the rooms pictured on the site and write down the names of the hotels that appeal. You might also note addresses.

As you begin to approach a new city or town, keep an eye out for the sign directing you to the Sehir Merkezi, or town center. Most if not all Turkish cities locate most of their hotels in the center of town (big showy higher-end business hotels tend to be on the outskirts, where you don't want to be anyway). When you hit the Sehir Merkezi -- often identified by a roundabout or town square, Ataturk statue, or some such -- the hotel you seek will often be sitting right there in plain sight.

If it's not, don't be flustered. Drive up and down the main street. Pull over and show someone the name of the hotel you're looking for and ask for directions. Hail a taxi and do the same -- the taxi driver may even lead you there.

Once you've found your hotel park your car in front, even if illegally (but not blocking traffic), pop into the hotel and ask to see a room. If you end up staying the hotel will park your car for you, or direct you to a lot nearby.

UPDATE, July 2014:

Since starting serious research for our Turkish cookbook our road trips in Turkey usually involve longer stays. And we have, sometimes, found a majority of hotels in some cities to sometimes be full (Erzurum last month, for instance). So we've started booking our first night in any town or city online before we arrive, and then use that half a day to decide whether or not to stay put or move to another, better, less expensive hotel. We've had great luck with booking.com and hotels.com; photos of rooms are generally accurate. And we cross-check reviews on TripAdvisor.com, which have been generally reliable for Turkey. In many instances hotels take your reservation but don't charge till you arrive, and sometimes you can negotiate the rate down for a multiple night stay.

One thing remains constant: in most cities: the prices charged by "boutique" hotels (ie. refurbished old buildings) are rarely commensurate with quality of lodging. And sadly, many refurbishments are simply poorly done, essentially business hotel-type rooms with no special atmosphere that just happen to be in a historic structure. We generally go for newer 3-stars. Always ask for a quiet room and never be shy of asking to see other rooms if you don't like the one you're put in.

Tip 8: For a clean loo, keep an eye out for Opet

"You look wonderful today. How about us?"

These words, in Turkish, are stenciled on mirrors in the women's bathrooms at Opet gas stations. (I don't know about the men's rooms.) The company that owns the Opet chain is headed by a woman, and Opet toilets are usually spotless. When you're on the road and in need of a bathroom break a clean toilet is a fabulous thing, not to be taken for granted. Also, Opet markets have the most well-stocked beverage cases -- useful for Diet Coke addicts like us. (Don't criticize, now -- everyone has their vices.)

Tip 9: Pick up and drop off from the same location

This is a massive money-saver. All but the most out-there airports have rental cars bookable online, and cars from major airports tend to be cheaper. Distances in Turkey are not as great, it feels, as those in the USA. So if you were looking to road-trip in, say, Cappadocia then picking up a car at the airport in major cities like Ankara or Kayseri should not be seen as out of the question.

Tip 10: Save money with Turkish rentals

Renting from a Turkish agency will be much cheaper than if you rent from one of the large international agencies like Avis, Hertz, EuroCar, etc. We've now used Argus Car Hire on 3 occasions, and have been sent to Turkish agencies in every case. In each instance we had good, reliable cars that varied in cleanliness from not very clean (but not awful, just very dusty) to spic and span, and we've dealt with rental agency staff whose English ability varied from none to fluent. In the case of the former, the rental staff brought an English-language speaking friend along to help facilitate the rental; the friend gave us his number in case of an emergency. We will use Argus Car Hire again.

Another option is to arrive at your location and book on the spot, at the airport, from a Turkish rental agency. We might try this on one of our upcoming trips. I see Turks do it all the time, and at airports on the Aegean and Mediterranean, in Ankara, even in Kayseri staff do speak some English. If you plan to do this it would be a good idea to get a general idea of charges by browsing a bit on the web in advance. Do NOT do this on a weekend in high season or over a holiday -- you may end up with no car at all.

UPDATE July 2014: Since I wrote this post in May 2013 we have continued to use Argus Car Hire on four additional road trips in Turkey. Prices are consistently lower than through other sites and our experience with hires have been consistently good. Do note the phone number of the rental agency on your Argus booking agreement ... we have occasionally arrived to airports unable to find our agent (who are usually waiting outside with the car, unless there is a desk inside the airport). But this has always been sortable within 5 minutes of a phone call.

Have you had experience road-tripping via rented vehicle in Turkey? Any tips we haven't covered here? Leave a comment and we'll include your tip, with credit of course, in an update to this post. Thanks for reading!

2013.05.17

I'd be the first to argue against a common misconception regarding the Turkish diet: that it revolves around lamb. While it's true that many Turks eat lamb, it's also true that many avoid it. Turkish cuisine is about so much more than lamb. It encompasses the dairy-heavy dishes of northeasterners, the fish dishes of those on the Black Sea, the meals rich in vegetables and leafy greens of Turkish people on the Aegean and the beef-centric specialties of those in south central Anatolia.

But dang, when Turkish folks do do lamb they sure do it right. And at Babaoğlu Kuyu Kebabi in Tire they've been doing it right for decades.

We'd come to Tire, a smallish city not far from Ephesus, for its massive weekly market. (More on that market later). But before we could market, we had to eat. And where else should we eat but at a favorite spot for market vendors?

"This is a perfect breakfast for sellers at the market, who will be working the whole long day without a break," our friend Serkan said as we approached Babaoğlu's door.

Piles of cut wood, fuel for the pit, sat on the pavement, nearly encroaching on the shop's stoop. In the front window roasted lamb ribs and a leg, and rounds of pocked pide, hung from hooks; steam rose from a shallow cauldron set over a brazier.

After six days of clear skies on the Aegean coast our first day inland was cool and rainy. We welcomed the wall of meaty steam that slapped us in the face as we pushed open Babaoğlu's door.

When I awoke that morning before dawn, my belly still full from nearly a week of hearty eating, the thought of lamb for breakfast had held less than zero appeal. But as I watched Babaoğlu's usta working his cleaver my stomach rumbled to life. Suddenly I was starving.

We started with Tandır Çorbası, soup that accompanies meat cooked in atandır or pit oven. There wasn't much to it -- fatty lamb stock, rice, red pepper -- but it was pure comfort, an ideal precedent for the feed that was to follow. Garlicky vinegar, a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkling of kirmizi biber (crushed red chilies) added a bit of zip to the rich meaty broth.

Then we moved on to the main attraction, opting out of liver and specifying meat half fatty, half lean. To assemble their kebabs owner Fikri Babaoğlu (dishing up soup, up top) and brother Selahattin pluck a pide from the hook in the window and slap it to the side of the small tandoor-type oven behind their prep counter. While the bread warms they prepare the meat, shaving it from ribs and leg and shoulder bones and hacking it into bite-sized pieces.

The warmed bread, sliced into thickish strips and dipped into red pepper-infused meat juices (in the small shallow tin, above), is a bed for the lamb. If one asks (and this one did), a few additional spoonfuls of meat juice will be drizzled over the lot. The kebab arrives at the table piping hot and ready for a generous sprinkle of fragrant dried wild thyme.

Babaoğlu's kuyu kebabi is a knife and fork dish; the chewy pide, though soaked in meat juices, resisted mushiness to the final bite. The meat was fabulously tender. After my slow start I seriously contemplated a second order.

As we ate market vendors and Tire locals came and went, some leaving with a takeout packet or two. Occasionally a young helper would emerge from the back room, which houses the pit oven, with a freshly roasted chunk of meat or a side of ribs blackened and crusty from the fire. At that moment forks and knives would pause in mid-air as eyes followed the lamb to its resting place on a hook in the window.

Fikri Babaoğlu told us that his family has been preparing kuyu kebabi in Tire for over a century. They do lamb right -- so right that we rose early enough the next day to return for Round Two.

2013.04.23

Big pots propped over piles of smoking wood, lined up at the rear of a parking lot caught my eye around 8:30 one Saturday morning, as Dave and I were driving up the Bozburun peninsula. We flew by, late for an appointment in Datca, before curiosity got the better of me. I made Dave backtrack so we could investigate. Turned out we were six hours early for a wedding feast.

Aliye T. is a caterer from a village near Aydin, an inland Aegean city approximately halfway between Marmaris and Izmir. She cooks for weddings, funerals, circumcision celebrations and other gatherings. On this sunny spring day, in this parking lot steps from a serene turquoise bay Aylin, her husband, her sister, assorted other relatives and a neighbor were preparing a wedding feast for 700, to be served at three that afternoon.

Aylin has been a caterer for seven years. "I'm known in my village as a good cook, but I didn't plan for this to be work," she told me. "Then one day a neighbor told a relative in another village about my fine food. They asked if I could cook for their daughter's wedding. I'd never cooked for so many people before, but I got my sisters to help, and we made a meal for 500. We cooked well, the wedding guests told us the food was delicious! And then strangers started calling, asking if I could cook for a wedding, a funeral ...."

Aliye charges 70 to 80 Turkish lira per person, catering six or seven weddings -- averaging 500-600 guests each, she estimates -- every month. She provides a fulls service, everything from food to tables and chairs to canopies to protect from sun and rain.

"I've cooked for weddings in Fethiye!" she told me, patting her chest and naming a city approximately 250 kilometers from her village.

I haven't a good idea as to Aliye's costs, but that struck me as a pretty decent part-time living for a Turkish villager; Aliye and her family also own a small farm. Is the money good, I asked? Aliye shrugged, allowed herself a small smile and held her hands out, palms to the sky. "I get by," she said.

When we arrived the women had already been cooking for two hours. On this day's menu: chickpeas stewed with salca (tomato-red pepper paste) and beef, keshkek (wheat berry porridge, which tastes much lovelier than it sounds), chicken sauteed with tomatoes, chips (it seems Turks are crazy for chips, aka French fries -- we see them everywhere we travel) and asure with sesame seeds and cinnamon.

"The menu changes according to the wishes of whoever hires me to cook for them," Aliye said. "I can do meze too. That's especially popular in spring and summer."

As the women lifted lids and stirred stews the men lingered at the breakfast table. Their work would begin when it was time to unstack the plastic chairs and tables and set up the canopies. In the meantime there were potatoes to slice.

"I've got to get back to work," Aliye said. "Next time you're in Aydin, call me. I'll cook for you. And you can come to a wedding with us."